The Santa Suit
by fantasticality
Summary: Mitchie forces Nate into a Santa suit, and hilarity ensues. Nitchie-crack. Happy early Christmas, Ada!


**Hi, again! *waves to the few people reading the AN* I'm back with another Christmas oneshot! This might be my last for a while, seeing as it's the last one that I have finished...**

**Dedication: This story goes out to one of my best friends, and she's one of the best authors whose works I've had the pleasure of reading. pyrolyn-776, this is for you! Hope you like it!**

* * *

"Come _on_! Get your tight little ass into it, right now!" Mitchie roared, shoving the article of clothing at Nate.

Was she stupid? Like hell he would embarrass himself to wear that! He merely pushed it away. "Aw, hell no, Mitchie! Don't make me wear it!" Nate cried, flailing miserably. "It's so stupid!"

"Put. It. On."

Brown eyes widened in fear as he quickly snatched the outfit and bolted away.

In a show of a bipolar personality, Mitchie's expression brightened immensely as she blew him a kiss and shouted a sweet, "Thank you, my little curly-haired Cookie Bear!"

* * *

"I hate you." The pop star glowered at his wife, who was tugging at his outfit curiously. He loved her, but she murdered his pride.

Mitchie hummed curiously. "I don't know, there's just something… _missing._"

Groaning, Nate asked begrudgingly, "And what, pray tell, is missing from this horrendous ensemble you've forced upon me?"

What the hell was he talking about? Now it was Mitchie's turn to glower. "Stop with the scholar vocab, Mr. Genius. All our IQ's ain't over a hundred twenty."

"Don't I know it," he muttered softly.

She smacked him on the arm. "What was that?" she demanded, glaring at him.

"I love you."

"That's what I thought." Mitchie suddenly jumped up and pranced happily to the kitchen. A large splash and a rather long string of curse words reached his ears a mere minute later.

Nate just sat on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

"Nate, my little genius-with-an-afro, will you come help me?" she called sweetly. He could almost hear Mitchie batting her eyelashes at him.

"Nah," he refused offhandedly, still distracted with finding patterns on their stark white ceiling. _Ooh! There's one that looks like a fluffy bunny!_

What an idiot.

He heard Mitchie let out a huff before screeching, "Nate, get your ass in here!"

Valuing his life, he decided to obey his dictator-wife. "Yes, ma'am!" Nate hurried off the couch and went to the kitchen to help out his wife. When he reached the kitchen, he gaped at his wife. Mitchie was glaring up at him, fully soaked in milk and, if you took a deep whiff, Pepsi. Stifling a laugh, he helped her up, careful not to touch too much of her, seeing as his clothes were designer (the pansy). "What the hell did you do, Mitch?"

"Shut up," she snapped glaring at him. "Just help me clean up."

He had no hesitation to comply with her demand.

Once they had finished, Mitchie walked back to the large bag on the counter and dove into the refrigerator, her upper body disappearing fully within the food-y depths. A large tub of who-knows-what was cradled in her hands after she emerged.

Nate vaguely wondered how she had managed to fit that into the fridge. "Mitchie, sweetie, what's that?"

She looked up from the tub she had been carrying. "Your belly, of course!" she said, smiling brightly.

He hightailed it away from her.

Unfortunately, he didn't get very far before Mitchie began roaring for him to get back into the kitchen.

"You ungrateful little afro-head! Get your spongy head back here right now!" she had screamed.

And he hightailed it back.

Stumbling to a halt in front of her, Nate saw Mitchie with her hands on her hips, an expression that read "PMSing Bitch!" on her in bright neon letters against a background of flames.

No more anime for me, he thought, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts.

"Now," Mitchie began, eerily approaching Nate, the tub of stuff-he-didn't-want-to-know-about in her hands. "Stay still like a good little boy and let's get your belly on." She placed her hand on the lid of the tub, preparing to open it.

Jello.

She set the tub onto the table and grabbed the bag.

Then she stuffed it down his shirt.

He squirmed uncomfortably in her grip. Attempting to free himself from his capture, he cried, "Mitchie, stop! I thought you liked my abs! You said yourself that they were sexy!"

"Yeah, I did," she agreed, nodding slightly. "But this fits the season _so _much better." After succeeding her task of stuffing the bag down Nate's shirt, she eagerly grabbed the container and began pouring it into the bag.

"_Shit, that's cold!"_

* * *

In all honesty, Mitchie had never encountered such a sight.

Ever.

She poked and prodded at it, only to watch with amazement as it merely jiggled slightly back into place.

Her husband sighed in exasperation. "Mitchie, I know you find it an odd sight to see, but please stop poking it. It's rather uncomfortable." He tossed another log into the fireplace as the light began to dim. He needed heat. It was fucking cold with the jello on his stomach.

Giggling, she replied, "But it's just so… weird."

"So why did you force me into it?" Nate whined.

Mitchie let out another tinkling laugh. "Just be glad I didn't force you into a playboy bunny suit, my pop star-with-an-afro."

Nate could just picture it now. _Lo and behold, pop star Nate Black wearing a scandalizing suit! _Oh, the tabloids would have a field day.

"You're not that cruel," he protested. When she shot him a withering look, Nate sighed in response. "Okay, I guess you can be."

Slapping his arm, Mitchie snapped, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm cruel?"

Nate imitated her previous look.

"I guess you're right," she admitted. The straight-haired brunette stood up and announced that she was going to, as she put it, "make a Shane and sleep."

Just what the hell was that supposed to mean? She wasn't having sex every night, was she? Was she!?!

He shook off his paranoid thoughts and got up. Waiting to hear their bedroom door shut, Nate quickly shredded his outfit.

Brown irises gained a malicious glint in them as he held the dreaded outfit in his hand. _And tonight, it will perish! _He tossed aside the gelatin – he could eat that later.

Letting out an evil laugh, Nate made a dramatic show of tossing the outfit into the fireplace. His eyes gleamed happily as he watched it crackle and spark in the fire, burning to a crisp.

The dreaded Santa suit was finally gone.

"My sexy little Santa," Mitchie called from their room. "Where's the Santa suit? It was a rental and it sure as hell cost a lot of money!"

Nate paled visibly. Two words passed through his mind.

_Oh, fuck…_

_

* * *

**There we go, Ada! There's the Nitchie-crack you asked for! Heh, I hope you didn't cringe. I don't think it really qualifies for crack, anyways, but I hope it was okay!**_

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


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